How to Get Ahead in Cafe-Courting
by Nate-kun
Summary: In which Serena has a simple, parallel-changing request that can only be fulfilled by a simple boy who tends to simply over-think the most simplest of adjures, simply because he isn't interested in any mundane sort of dynamics. Kalosshipping, fluff, lewd under-table gestures abundant, bite me.


**Oh boy, here I fucking go. I'm entering that silly phase yet again, yes, I know exactly what I'm doing now. I'm haphazardly supporting the sail of a ship I've grown to like so much that I want others to be entangled in the dynamic, the fluff, and the godly fan art from pixiv that gets produced in hordes by the updating hours, only to get saved to my hard drive, and then later re-posted by other losers on the dark-corner of the net that is tumblr, whose users source these uploads to the former site because they're kind enough to do so.**

**Oh yes, it is that phase once again that's benevolently abducting me under its wing. The beginning of a new generation, or any Pokemon game featuring new characters (which would undeniably account for all games that ever got released.), the introduction of new characters, who regardless of their underdeveloped traits in-game, get shipped to high heavens where ever you see a community for this lovely cash cow of a franchise.**

**I fucking love it. I'm a prisoner to the cycle and I can really do nothing but write on and on for people I don't know, just to listen to their stark satisfaction when I hear them giggle (because let's face it, ninety-nine percent of people who reads this are chicks.) and squeal out of adoration for whatever fluff I decide shit out of my dick. Without further ado, here's another story featuring the ship whom I've been entranced by, and the ship I want to spread to others so they can write about it too, hopefully with OCs excluded and concepts of basic grammar acknowledged. Kalosshipping chugs on. (Although I rooted for voisin myself, but eh, I suppose it'll do.)**

**Feeling generous and not fond of lurking? Wish to support me in my efforts to support you with stories that I hope don't blow? Review, review, review. Even if you don't want to or have nothing meaningful to say, simple words will do, reviews let me know you're reading, regardless of how mean or nice, they give me incentive to get off my ass and write, and they let me know you probably want to see more. Thank you in advance for your courtesy. I love you all. **

**Anyways here's another stupid story that doesn't make a lick of sense that I wrote at what? Four AM, was it? Maybe it takes place before the other ones, I don't know. Takes place when Serena requests the player to meet her at the cafe, (or vice versa if you're a girl.) Whatever. ****Let's read some fucking fanfiction.**

**Word Count: 2299 words.**

* * *

How to Get Ahead in Cafe-Courting

_An intrepid reminder that the reality between this universe and the fictional one here are extremely dissimilar in ethical nature._

* * *

Lumiose City can be described in simple words that aim to please a younger demographic of people trapped within more modern, contemporary times. Words like "pretentious" often come to mind.

In the olden times of yesteryear, the city was _the_ classical representation of beautiful towns of romance frequently seen in popular media, with the faint scent of baguettes and foul-odored men in berets flowing through the air. A city where a man could see his lady-friend, take her soft hand into his own, escort her to a carriage, and take her to a fancy restaurant in which they dine amongst common chatter of anything of particular interest.

These days its sole priority is to cater to the lowest-common denominator as much as possible in order to win over the target hipster audience. It's a harrowing change from the former days of the town's youth. But a necessary one in order to make some marginal profits.

She waits outside the cafe at a specially reserved table. She waits because she's a patient girl trapped in a city full of impatient people.

It's not even that much of a bother for her, being able to see the sights, the city, everything that she isn't able to see back in that three-building, one-horse town that is Vaniville, is right there in front of her to gawk at and perhaps even envy.

She takes a sip of her drink. It's a **_fucking good_** milkshake.

"He sure loves to take his sweet time."

He does. He really does. It's a fact made prominent when he shows up around ten minutes late to their little outing.

"S-Sorry! Damn I, uh, got held up by... I dunno...traffic?"

She cocks her head to the side, "You drove here?"

"No, I just kind of lied to you and I'm not really sure why..."

He sheepishly shrugs and expects her to accept his shitty excuse, and to his surprise, she does. Contrary to other women her age, she at least _makes _an attempt to be calm and understanding prior to blowing any fuses.

She offers him a milkshake of his own, he accepts it, and they spend the next ten seconds or so indulging in them.

Calem, on the other hand, isn't too fond of being left in the dark. Ambiguous cryptic clues do nothing but make him want to discover the truth, and for his unfortunate concern, it seems as if Serena is full of them.

"Alright, let's just cut to the chase, why did you call me here?"

Serena pauses, because that's genuinely a difficult question for her to answer. For what reasons she does have for luring him into her personal bubble, she isn't too sure he'll be able to realistically believe.

She takes another sip from her shake-she makes a mental note to get another on take-out-, "In all honesty, Calem, it came out upon a whim. I saw you defeat Sycamore, and something inside of me clicked."

"That sounds gross."

She bites back, "Are you going to let me talk or not?"

"I am, I am, sorry! I just like pushing my luck is all."

She looks away, as if embarrassed, whether of him or herself, she isn't quite sure. Regardless, she reflects back to her thoughts, "Anyways, I saw you defeat Sycamore back at the lab, we all did, and I realized something."

In the middle of sipping through his straw, a revelation hits Calem. He stops kissing the tube of plastic, "Wait a minute, do you mean to say _that-_"_  
_

The boy is interrupted because she wants to go ahead and say it before it becomes a burden to carry.

"Out of our little group, I've realized that you're the strongest of us all, barring me of course."

She folds her hands together in an elegant-fashion, "I want us to become rivals, is what I'm trying to say."

Calem's expression notably drops because he was expecting a reveal much more satisfying than that. He makes this concern a pertinent one, "So wait. You invited me **_all the_****_ way_** over to a cafe, just to tell me you want us to become rivals?"

A blush covers her face, and again she makes an effort to look away from, "W-Well yeah, it sure **_sounds_** stupid when you put it like that..."

"You have like, three other stooges to pick out of, why me again? I'm not exactly as happy-go-lucky as they are."

Serena contemplates the question, it's certainly a mind-boggle if there ever was one. But at the end she focuses on a simple rationalization, "To be brutally honest, I think that's the problem."

Calem refrains from spitting out the gooey, pinkish fluid in his mouth, and swallows before giving her a much-expected, "What?!"

"I need a competent rival, someone who pushes me to go forward, do better, to stop living in the past and enjoy the ride to the future. You really fit that description more than anyone else."

He takes it a bit too far, "Oh, is that so?" he asks, cocking an eyebrow and flashing her a smirk that could only charm a toddler or an old wicked crone.

"Can you **_not _**do that?" she asks, while in the middle of a squirm.

She takes a deep breath, further attempting to bottle up her need to dominate, "Try to be at least a **_little_ **serious here, please! I'm not playing around. I really think we both have potential to be good trainers, I want make sure that we promise to see us each other develop before our adventure really starts so we can-"

"Is this a date?"

He asks it out of the blunt curiosity brewing in his mind, completely oblivious in a way that's almost innocently cute.

Serena has to force herself not to pinch the bridge of her deliciously pale nose. So instead, she kicks him from underneath the table.

"Ow! What the **_hell _**did you do that for-!?"

"You know **_damn _**well why I did that. Now come on, no more playing games, do you want to be rivals or not? Because if not-"

"You know, isn't it kind of weird for you to just set-up this date and then **_refuse_** to call it one? What kind of girl _does _that?"

She sips the milkshake. She sips it _hard. _There's not much of it left, and she knows for a fact that she's not going to be mellowed out by the time it dries up. For such a moderately attractive young man, Calem seems to be one of the few people able to break her chill demeanor and tear it to pieces.

Rather than blatantly show her frustration, Serena decides to ventilate another way, "You think if this were a date, I'd be waiting for you to ask me _something_, right?"

"I guess, but-!"

"Unless you're blind, you'll notice that we're not doing that, so why are you jumping to all these conclusions?"

"Maybe I was waiting on you to ask!"

"The girl never asks."

"Sometimes she does! Y'know, if she really likes the guy or something, o-or the boy is too afraid-"

"No, she doesn't. It's always the guy." as soon as she says that, she pauses. She pauses because she can't believe she's actually buying into his idiocy rather than getting on with the program. It's contagious, and vehemently frustrating.

This is the same man whose Froakie ends every battle with her Fennekin in a draw.

She clicks her tongue, "Agh, **_why_** am I even **_talking_** to you about this?"

"Because you want it to happen?"

Another sip, another delicious sip of artificially flavored Swirlix-marketed drink to calm herself, "The only thing I **_want _**to happen is for us to become adversaries. I invite you here to ask you upfront, and you're being way too difficult that I'm seriously reconsidering-**_Huh?_**"

He has the gall to grab her hand and interject her speech.

"That sounds great and all, but here's an idea: Why not take it a step further?"

"What are you-?" she starts to ask, but he cuts her off.

The boy's tone begins to get sort-of serious, _as _serious as someone like him is allowed to be, anyway, "You said you want to see us develop as trainers, right?"

"Right, but what does that-?"

Again, cut off.

"You also said that I'm strong, more so than the rest of our tag-along buddies, isn't that true?"

Serena attempts to wiggle her hand out of his, but he won't budge because he's a cunt, "You're not better than me though."

"I dare to disagree."

"Are you going to go somewhere with this or not? I can leave you here anytime you know."

Fletchlings chirping among the most conventional chatter within the background are the only sounds that follow for the next few fleeting moments. During this time, Calem contemplates exactly what to say, how to say it, and how _not _to look stupid while saying it.

"Let's be traveling companions instead. We'll be able to keep tabs on each other like you want, and neither of us will be able to get too far or too behind the other! We'll of course, battle along the way, even though I'm clearly going to win every time."

Her exasperation is notably beginning to simmer down, "You're putting too much hope into yourself, if you don't lower your expectations, you're going to cry when someone finally kicks your ass."

"So... That's a yes?"

Serena finally manages to remove her hand from his grip. She crosses her arms regards to his advancements, "I work pretty fast, how do I know you won't be dead weight? I'm not going to take things easy, you know."

Calem frowns, genuine disappointment in the expression, "You should! Part of the fun of an adventure is taking things simply at your own pace. All you seem to do is focus too much on the negatives and the hardships of a journey. That can get you stressed out, you know."

With a smile of confidence, he holds up his index finger, "You need to accentuate the positives!"

The girl's reply is a hesitant one, specifically because his choice of words intrigues her, "Accentuate...the positives?"

He nods and after it sinks in, she laughs, "The only reason I focus on the negatives is because if I get my expectations up too high, I'll always end up being disappointed. If I realistically expect things, then at best I'll just be pleasantly surprised."

Calem juggles her explanation in his mind, "Alright I guess I get that. But! Look at it this way, would you rather be over-hyped and then crushed or would you rather be the wet blanket in the room because you think everything is going to be horrible?"

"I never said that! I said I think _realistically. _

"Which clearly means you want everything to suck."

Another pause.

"...I guess we could both learn a thing or two from each other, huh?"

With her milkshake finished and her conversation at a standstill, she hasn't much reason left to remain there, why she still is, she has no idea. But she does figure it has something to do with his proposal, which given some thought, doesn't sound _that _bad. It may not be a direct rival type of relationship, but in retrospect it's as close as she's going to get to one with this boy.

"I'd like that." she finally admits.

"Eh?" he asks, confusion towards her befuddling response.

"What you asked. Just don't fall behind."

For Calem and his over-assuming thoughts, this is a new step. A new tread into a previously undefined, unmarked, and unknown territory. A barren domain covered in luscious golden brown locks, a comfortable overdose of _absolute territory,_ and the kind of stark scolding and punishment viable enough to cater to his masochism libido that he himself won't even be aware of until, give or take two years from this exact moment.

To commemorate this monumental occasion, Calem takes the liberty of once again testing his luck on the uncomfortably cliche gamble of teenage affection.

"So, is this a date _now?_"

Her retort is quite immediate, "Are you still going on about that?"

"Well, we _are _companions now..."

"**_Traveling_** companions."

"Still?"

"I'd rather not," she shifts her eyes, once to the left, and once to the right, "_there are people watching._"

"No, they're not! They're paying attention to themselves and their own thing."

Another moment of silence befalls the two, Serena ruminates over when they're going to leave and start anew on their conjoined peregrination, while Calem's tirade of over-scrutinization re-affirms that it won't stop prodding his mind anytime soon.

Clearly, the only way to convince her of anything is to shift the tone of the rendezvous. He does that, with some generally expected results.

Feeling his gestures, Serena takes a quick duck under the table to gawk at the scene, before jerking back up.

"Why are you playing footsies with me?"

Calem doesn't stop even after she calls him out for it, but offers another sheepish shrug to compensate.

"It's what people do on dates, it's like when a dog sniffs another dog's ass...or something."

The boy takes note that she isn't doing anything to stop him either.

In correspondence, Serena grabs his hand, and in an act that completely stupefies his speech to nothing short of rambling and gibberish. Her grip is firm, unyielding, and the slightest bit relentlessly merciless.

"That is the only time you will ever get away with calling me a **_dog_**, I hope you keep that in mind."

He squeaks out a brisk, "_Yes, ma'am._", thereby cementing the role of the dominator and her ludicrously loyal inferior within their dynamic. And in the process, sparking a torrent of madness, with subtle bits of endearment thrown here and there.


End file.
